Nightingale
Faculty
Newsletter
Volume XXI / March 2013
A Civilized Yogi: The Life of French Explorer Alexandra David-Néel, 1868–1969
Heidi Kasevich
p. 4
Hauling Water: An Eyewitness Account
Brad Whitehurst
p. 6
IN THE CLASSROOM
Class IV’s Study of American Landscape Painting
Claire Anderson
p. 10
Public Forum Debate at Nightingale
LE Hartmann-Ting
p. 12
Why Women Aren’t Funny (For Example)
John Loughery
p. 14
Library Update
Diane Neary
p. 16
iPad Pilot Program: Updates From Our Faculty
p. 17
PERSPECTIVES ON THE PEOPLE OF COLOR CONFERENCE
Student Reflections
Appreciation
Valerie Cardozo
p. 20
Elements of a Leader
Traciann Celestin
p. 20
Where Have You Been?
Grace McLeod
p. 20
Finding My Place
p. 21
Yacine Niang
Your Story p. 22
Caroline Schoen
Taking a Stand
p. 22
Sydney Vann
Faculty Reflections
People of Color Conference
Linda Field
p. 23
My First Experience at the PoCC
Eileen Saguirer
p. 24
TRAVEL
London, as Imagined
Heather Beveridge
p. 25
Incredible India
Susan Cohen-Nicole
p. 27
Escape from NYC: Reflections from Yosemite and Crater Lake
Nikki Vivion
p. 28
ACADEMIC AFFAIRS AND PROFESSIONAL DEVELOPMENT
Highlights from Academic Affairs
Kitty Gordan
p. 30
Workshops and Conferences
p. 32
References on Creativity
Scott Meikle
p. 34
2 Faculty Newslette r
“It is the supreme art of the teacher to awaken joy in creative expression and knowledge.” —Albert Einstein
In the words of John Dewey in 1916, “Schools are social institutions that need to provide mechanisms for exchanging ideas and
defining collective visions always open to negotiating and redefining these visions according to the needs of the community.”
This is as true now as then. The open exchange of ideas is a hallmark of teaching at Nightingale. Conversations—both formal
and informal—happen among our faculty all the time, and they continue well beyond the blue doors—with fellow educators at
conferences; with students; and with others we encounter in our “spare time,” through travel (to places like India, London, Crater
Lake, and Yosemite, for example) and other experiences. Through those conversations and experiences, we are motivated to
reexamine our own teaching, hone our approach, and channel our creativity.
“Creativity: It’s not just for artists….It is about solving problems for which popular or conventional responses don’t work… It is
about an ability to generate alternatives,” explains Scott Meikle in his article on creativity to be published in the 2013–2014 issue
of Independent School magazine. Paul Burke struck a similar chord in his January letter to parents when he said that “creativity
can be developed as much as analytical thinking or expository writing, and can emerge from any discipline, and from any girl….
It is about building in iterative processes that obligate students to try and then try again. It has optimism as its seedbed, and
Nightingale girls are generally an optimistic lot. Let us tap into that optimism fully…” Our winter issue of the Faculty Newsletter
is a tribute to creativity in faculty life and in the classroom, and I hope that you will find it both an inspiration and an enjoyable read.
—Kitty Gordan
march 2013 3
A Civilized Yogi: The Life
of Alexandra David-Néel
1868–1969
Heidi Kasevich / History, Head
“Obedience is death.”2 In fact, this tension is just one of
many that characterizes the personality and life of a complex
and multifaceted individual. The list of apparent conflicts
is seemingly endless: the explorer’s love of solitude was
counterbalanced by an equally strong need to be in the
spotlight; the anarchist jettisoned rules and created her own
values, but she treated those closest to her in authoritarian
ways; the wife never lived with her husband on a full-time
basis; the bohemian remained attached to the goal of
living a comfortable bourgeois life; the feminist adhered to
traditional norms of femininity; the mother thought it was an
abomination to have children; the Orientalist adopted native
dress and customs; the pacifist carried a revolver; the traveler
yearned to escape from and be a part of Western society.
Courtesy of the Alexandra David-Néel Cultural Center in Digne, France
Heidi Kasevich delivered the inaugural Catherine M.S. Gordan
Nightingale Mind Lecture on January 22, 2013. Her topic: the
life of renowned explorer, philosopher, spiritualist, and writer
Alexandra David-Néel. Below is a short extract from her talk;
the full text is available at nightingale.org/events/lectures/
gordan-lecture.
Alexandra David-Néel’s life is a compelling story about a
woman who dared to embrace career over family when it
was not the norm to do so; as she said herself many times,
she was never suited for “life in a house.”1 Even though
authentic freedom proved to be an elusive goal—the yogi
remained a “Parisian dilettante, philosopher, and artist” at
heart—David-Néel, with her anarchist spirit, never gave
up trying to live without submitting to anyone or anything:
1
David-Néel, Correspondance, 341.
4 Faculty Newslette r
This list suggests more than the idea that the human self is
multiple and changing or that David-Néel was a perpetual
actress: most importantly, it reveals that this perspicacious
feminist recast her identity in ways that served her purpose
as a female explorer in a man’s world. For example, her
anarchist beliefs drove her out of the colonial home, yet her
domineering approach with others enabled her to focus on
adventure rather than on the more mundane tasks of life. If
she had procreated with her husband, it is highly probable
that she would not have been able to travel so extensively
in the Orient; as the mother of an adopted Asian son,
she gained a devoted and loyal companion. Befriending
natives enabled her to gain expertise as an Orientalist, but
maintaining ties with colonial communities provided her with
the funding and travel authorizations necessary to pursue her
career goals. Without her love of the silence of the Himalayas,
she may not have forged ahead with her risky plan to travel
in forbidden Tibet and accomplish a feat that propelled
her into the international spotlight. That she both violated
and validated traditional norms of femininity enhanced her
reputation as a female explorer in the interwar years.
Recurrent statements about free will and karma in her writings
imply that David-Néel made sense of these paradoxes in her
own life through the lens of Buddhism: while the karmic law of
cause and effect shaped her behavior, she ultimately believed
2
A
lexandra David-Néel, Féministe et libertaire (Paris: Les Nuits Rouges,
2003), 79.
that she possessed the liberty to alter her own destiny—
within the matrices of heredity and the environment. Buddhist
philosophy also provided her with a way to cope with pain
and suffering, and she strove to approach her life with an
attitude of detachment, which would save her from the “trap
of concentration on the self.” Nevertheless, for a Buddhist
who endeavored to “expect nothing, neither from gods
nor from men,” she certainly did cling to people (Philippe,
Yongden, and Marie-Madeleine), possessions (including her
Oriental treasures), and the quest for glory.3 Throughout her
life, the first Western woman to penetrate Lhasa remained
torn between the conflicting landscapes of egoism and
selflessness, the fulfillment of desires and the renunciation of
attachments; her anarchist definition of liberty as freedom of
the ego clashed with the Buddhist conception of happiness as
freedom from the ego.4 As with the other apparent conflicts
in her life, this metaphysical dilemma ultimately proved
to be a productive one: the quest to pursue diametrically
opposed philosophical goals compelled the pioneer to reject
conventional female roles, travel to Asia through her late
seventies, and write books until the eve of her death. Without
her determination and endurance, and her faith in her own
ability to accomplish daring and unconventional feats, she
would never have trekked through the Himalayas on foot or
lived in a Sikkimese cave. Her sheer will and energy enabled
her to break rules and engage in risky behavior—in calculated
and successful ways. On the other hand, her conversion
3
4
Indian Daily Mirror, 24 April 1912.
Alexandra David-Néel, Grand Tibet et Vaste Chine. Compilation of 5
books: Au Pays des Brigands Gentilshommes; Voyage d’une Parisienne à
Lassa; Sous des Nuées d’Orage; À l’Ouest Barbare de la Vaste Chine; Le
Vieux Tibet face à la Chine Nouvelle (Paris: Plon, 1999), 565. Alexandra
David-Néel, La lampe de sagesse (Paris: Rocher, 1986), 22.
to Buddhism helped her overcome obstacles in her life,
which were rooted in an extremely unhappy childhood,
and propelled her forward on multiple journeys throughout
Asia as an inquisitive practitioner of the Buddhist faith and
eager scholar of Eastern religions. It is doubtful that an
actress who was repeatedly afflicted by neurasthenia would
have journeyed to the Orient without the Buddhist cure for
suffering in her arsenal of props.
Did her life end in 1969 with feelings of peace and
serenity? The Anarcho-Buddhist, for whom “adventure was
the only reason for living,” renewed her passport at age
100 but bemoaned the fact that all of the corners of the earth
had already been explored.5 Yearning to travel—even to
space—but inhibited by the physical constraints of old age,
David-Néel focused instead on the other activities that had
infused her life with a sense of purpose: studying and writing.
Her armchair in her bedroom in Digne, however, could never
compete with the natural beauty of the Himalayas, which
had bewitched her with “deceitful magic” and enabled her
to “sink into the bliss of sensation and the joy of living.”6
In her late nineties, she frequently held her pencil in a
tenuous manner and scribbled, “I am going to go out for
a walk.”7 David-Néel’s struggle to approach life with a spirit
of tranquil detachment persisted during her final hours:
“I have everything to learn,” she finally whispered to
Marie-Madeleine.8
5
6
7
8
Peyronnet, 145.
David-Néel, My Journey to Lhasa, 34.
Peyronnet, 144.
Marie-Madeleine Peyronnet, interviewed by author, March 18, 2007.
march 2013 5
Hauling Water:
An Eyewitness Account
Brad Whitehurst / English
Last spring, Mr. Whitehurst was invited by his former English
teacher, Ron Smith, to guest teach for the day at his alma
mater, St. Christopher’s School in Richmond, Virginia. While
there, he delivered the following talk to the Upper School
students at their daily chapel service.
I would like to tell you a real New York story from a time when
most of you were between the ages of four and eight. Some
of the background may be familiar to you, but the specific
details that make it my story will be new. You Saints gathered
here may be pleased to note that the Episcopal Church
figures prominently.
One September morning on the Upper West Side of
Manhattan, I sat alone in my classroom at St. Hilda’s & St.
Hugh’s School, grading. Suddenly, a colleague stuck her head
into the doorway and exclaimed, “a plane has crashed into
the World Trade Center!” I reacted as most of you probably
would: in shock, horror, and disbelief. It must have been a
stray commuter plane, I still remember thinking, maybe a
small prop plane that somehow had lost its way. How foolish
of the pilot (and how sad for him), I thought in my stunned
state. Half-formed images were suppressed: of a plane (or the
wreckage of a plane) buried into the side of one of the towers
(or perhaps falling out of the tower) and of how it must be for
those caught in the plane or in the building (or on the ground
below). While my instinct was to avoid overreacting, the effect
was to minimize the damage before I even knew its extent—
in fact, before I even knew what had happened at all. Notice
that my first reaction was to assume pilot error: a strikingly
naïve response in our post-9/11 era. When I heard minutes
later that another plane had flown into the other tower, it
became clear that the accidents were no accident. But who
could do such a thing? Who would be motivated to take
such action?
Gathered around a large television wheeled into a faculty
office, some of us adults watched as, in real time, the first
tower fell—and soon after, the second, though at this point
my recollections grow fuzzy. Faced with a crisis, we as an
Episcopal school convened in chapel. The Head of School
assured the students that they were safe—as, indeed, they
6 Faculty Newslette r
were, sitting some six miles north of the stricken site.
But before they could be dismissed that day, we contacted
all parents to ensure that each student had a home and a
parent to return to. Miraculously, each one did, though there
would be some who would discover in the days ahead that a
certain relative or family friend was still reported missing.
In English classes, we try not
to reduce round characters
in all their messy complexity
into flat characters of, say,
absolute nobility free of flaws—
in other words, devoid of their
real humanity. The stakes are
higher, however, when the
characters are not fictional.
Because of disrupted subway service all over the city, I
took a bus that afternoon down Riverside Drive along the
Hudson River and then walked due east across Central Park
to my apartment on the Upper East Side. I needed to walk.
Standing in the middle of the park, I stared, blankly, upward:
no planes in sight because they all had been grounded; it
was just a clear, blue sky, achingly beautiful. The city was
eerily quiet except for the periodic wail of a siren from a
police car or fire truck speeding downtown, a sound that
march 2013 7
recurred late into the evening. Everything else seemed
muted, as if on an early Sunday morning in winter after a
heavy snowfall. Crossing Madison Avenue, I looked south
down the concrete canyon. Framed at the distant end of that
vista was a mushroom cloud like a small stencil cutout: vivid
and apparently unmoving, indelible. I felt both drawn and
repelled: I wanted to hail a cab right then to come within
closer range yet was repelled by my own ambulance-chasing
impulse to gawk at the suffering of others. Besides, what
could I do? What good would it do?
Everyone in New York in those early days wanted to do
something—to be useful in some way—as did so many
Americans across the country. But there was little that could
be done by ordinary folk. Fortunately, the former chaplain of
St. Hilda’s & St. Hugh’s, the Reverend Lyndon Harris, was then
serving at St. Paul’s Chapel. You may have seen images of the
little Episcopal church catty corner to the World Trade Center
that, despite all odds, survived the fall of the towers. That is
St. Paul’s Chapel, which was soon thrust into the spotlight as
a beacon of hope and the nerve center for the relief effort.
Father Harris found himself coordinating volunteers to help
at the site, and he reserved some of those coveted spots
for faculty and parents at St. Hilda’s, which is how I came to
volunteer twice.
The first time was on an evening shift within a week of the
disaster. Exiting the subway station downtown, I was struck
immediately by a pervasive smell like burnt rubber or burnt
rope mixed with something that at the time I could not, or
would not, name: an unforgettable smell that would linger
over lower Manhattan for weeks. After meeting Father Harris
at the perimeter checkpoint, we volunteers were escorted
to St. Paul’s Chapel. Donated supplies for the rescue
operation flooding in from across the country were being
gathered under tents pitched alongside the wrought iron
fence surrounding the chapel’s graveyard. Workers’ gloves,
hammers, crowbars, flashlights, goggles, face masks with air
filters—the assembled items suggested a cross between a
hardware store and a military supply depot.
Among the supplies were hundreds of cases of bottled
water. Soon I found myself lugging two plastic paint buckets
full of bottled water, wandering the dust-covered streets
surrounding the site to pass out water for free to whoever
happened to walk by: policemen, firemen, construction
workers, many of them volunteers from far-flung corners of
the country who had driven to New York to help out. One of
them, a fireman from the Los Angeles Police Department (so
his helmet indicated), walked up to me to ask if I would help
him. Of course I would. This anonymous fireman—whose
name I did not have the presence of mind to ask for—walked
me past a group of policemen and right up to the brink of
the site.
8 Faculty Newslette r
People often refer to our first responders—soldiers,
policemen, firemen—as heroes. While these folks certainly
deserve our admiration and respect, I think that hero-worship,
however well intentioned, easily leads to objectification,
turning individual human beings into symbols to gratify our
own desire for inspiration and encouragement. We all want
to take heart, naturally, and heroes help us do that. In English
classes, we try not to reduce round characters in all their
messy complexity into flat characters of, say, absolute nobility
free of flaws—in other words, devoid of their real humanity.
The stakes are higher, however, when the characters are not
fictional.
Despite these reservations, I tried months later to write a
poem about my experience. My challenge, I decided, was to
sketch a few select details and let the images carry the poem.
Here is the latest version.
HAULING WATER
He walked me beyond the makeshift sawhorse checkpoint
down to the staging ground where buckled pavers
of shattered granite dropped, sheer as a cliff,
where hardhats scanned the smoldering morass.
If you can bring them here, I’ll take them in,
he said, meaning my buckets of bottled water
relayed into the pile. (His L.A. squad
had driven east to help clean up the site
not yet declared a crime scene, nor set off-limits
to volunteers like me.) And so I hauled,
exchanging full pails for empty. Not till my shift
was over did I dare to pause, to stare
at girder snags the size of trains, great slabs
of rubble strewn like cars post-hurricane,
the storied slag heaps, the offices of concrete
dust on a scale diminished in the telling.
There comes a time when one more word may do
more harm than good, when the toxic drift of this world
stifles the urge to witness. That was when
I saw him: fifty yards out in the ruin,
helmet removed, a firefighter stood
astride a minor peak as if exploring
for the first time what had gone unnoticed,
an unobstructed westward view of the Hudson,
then leaned through gaps in wreckage to the unseen
diggers, passing in bottles, one by one.
Was that my fireman from Los Angeles? I’d like to think so,
but I will never know. Our paths did not cross again that
evening, though the pails kept reappearing where I had left
them, and I never saw him again. (By the way, “Hauling Water”
was my first published poem since college; it appeared in
Meridian magazine at the University of Virginia. When I sent
a copy to Mr. Smith, he kindly framed it and put in the poetry
center, where I believe it still is hanging.)
That evening, faced with incomprehensible devastation in
what amounted to a mass gravesite, workers persevered
in their search for survivors, risking life and limb to do
what needed to be done. Ordinary human beings, perfect
strangers humbled in a dark hour, manifested extraordinary
strength and—to use a Christian term—grace. The ripple
effect seemed to radiate throughout the city: in the weeks
and months that followed, people in Manhattan seemed to
move more slowly, forgive more easily, and actually look at
one another, to see one another, on the streets. Think of it
as the shock of suddenly recognizing other human beings
who, like you, have been wounded: it was like seeing Jesus
in one another. Out of unfathomable loss that September
day emerged moments of heroism and even redemption.
Moments—that did not last, of course.
So I want to remember those moments and remind myself
that they did take place. I want to be heartened by those
moments and look for more of them—and to act on more of
them—in my own life. Recently, reading an essay by the poet
Christian Wiman, I was struck by what he wrote about the
role of suffering in life, in his case shadowed by the looming
threat of fatal illness. Wiman wrote, “what extreme grief has
given me is the very thing it seemed at first to obliterate: a
sense of life beyond the moment, a sense of hope.” How odd
that extreme grief could give rise to a sense of hope, and yet
it can. Is that not, essentially, the message of Easter? And of
Passover? And of so many works of literature? What other
moments of hope, I wonder, are rising out of the abyss today?
What other life-affirming narratives are being written in zones
of devastation—whether in Syria, Iraq, Afghanistan, or even
here at home in the United States?
By the time my second volunteer shift at Ground Zero came
around, procedures had been formalized, barriers had been
erected, and volunteers like me were kept at a safe distance
from the pile. Happily, I was assigned to a morning shift under
the portico at the entrance to St. Paul’s Chapel, which had
been transformed into a kind of short-order kitchen—think
part outdoor barbecue and part New York coffee shop. Our
customers, served at no charge, were workers taking a break
on their way into, or out of, the pile. Despite their frayed
nerves, they quietly teased and laughed together, tossed
around off-color stories, and otherwise tried to cope with the
horror a block away. All of us there, both the servers and the
served, seemed to crave simple human contact: whether for
a few minutes or a few hours, community was being formed.
I will never forget how one weary worker after another walked
up to the steaming chafing dishes I stood behind, smiled
warmly, and offered a heartfelt thank-you for a measly dish of
scrambled eggs. “I should be thanking you,” I wanted to say,
without sounding forced or trite. Instead, moved to the core
of my being, I smiled back the tears, said “you’re welcome,”
and passed another paper plate.
You know the rest of the story—or at least partial versions
gleaned from media accounts or studied in history class.
Seniors, I understand that you are taking a course called
9/11 to Now. As you surely know, my account is just one of
thousands that could be told, that have been told, as part of a
much larger narrative that is still unfolding. As Americans and
as global citizens, you are part of that narrative. I hope that
whenever you face moments of suffering beyond your ken,
you resolve not to despair. Or when you despair, you search
through the wreckage for hope. Or you search the stranger’s
face for hope. For that is where you may find it.
march 2013 9
Class IV’s Study of American
Landscape Painting
Claire Anderson / Class IV Homeroom
sheer scale of these paintings but also at the intricate detail of
the scene before them. The details gave the viewer a glimpse
into an exotic world very different from any experience they
had ever had. The visual experience that was created in
these exhibition halls could be equated to today’s cinematic
experiences.
Albert Bierstadt, The Rocky Mountains, Lander’s Peak
My interest in the history of American art often influences
my summer work and the choices I make when developing
curriculum. Through the summer stipend program, I have
been able to take a number of classes at the Smithsonian
Museum of American Art and New York University, all of
which have focused on American landscape painting.
American landscape paintings from the Hudson River School
(nineteenth-century American art movement) presented
images from the American West and celebrated both
westward expansion and Manifest Destiny. Grand works were
created in studios in the northeast after an artist returned
from travels out west. These large-scale paintings were
often ideal renderings of places and peoples visited on their
journeys. Paintings were exhibited in galleries and exhibition
halls in New York. Most of the audiences viewing the
paintings would never have the opportunity to travel to the
west to experience the vast beauty of the natural landscape
and geography themselves. Therefore, the experience of
visiting exhibition halls to view these idealized places was
entertainment. Each work of art provided an opportunity
for people to escape and to come into contact with a world
unlike anything they had ever seen before. Often, the
paintings were displayed behind velvet curtains in dark rooms,
and people paid as much as a quarter to wait with suspense
for that moment when the curtain was removed and the work
was unveiled. The audience would not only marvel at the
10 Faculty Newslette r
My interest in American landscape painting and the
opportunities I have had to engage in academic study have
given me confidence to review and update specific areas of
the Class IV visual education and English curricula. I have
developed experiences and created writing assignments
based on close examination of landscape paintings, and have
found that the study of landscape paintings also strengthens
the geography curriculum because the girls are asked to
identify land and water forms in new contexts as well as to
articulate their understanding through writing and discussion.
My work to develop these new curricula is supported by
many colleagues, and I must give thanks to Mark Donovan,
Maggie Tobin, and April Tonin for their commitment to the
program. Their ideas and flexibility enable me to rethink the
girls’ experiences and help to develop and connect their
understanding in multiple ways.
Each fall, Class IV visits the Metropolitan Museum of Art to
examine landscape paintings of the Hudson River School
art movement, including Albert Bierstadt’s 1863 painting,
The Rocky Mountains, Lander’s Peak, which depicts the
grandeur of Lander’s Peak of the Wyoming Range and an
idyllic lake surrounded by tranquil woods. In the foreground
of the painting is a peaceful community of Native Americans
whose lives seem untouched by European colonization.
The work provides true escapism to all who view it.
April Tonin and I have reworked our approach to studying
Bierstadt’s painting to allow the girls to appreciate both its
scale and the details of the work. In order to do this, we first
ask the girls to spend time viewing the landscape and to offer
observations about what they notice. We, as teachers, guide
the discussion to include an identification of the land and
water forms studied in class. Then, the girls are asked to focus
on the details of the painting and share their observations
about the daily life of the Native American community before
Painting by Olivia Plimpton ‘13
them. The girls notice and discuss how the community relies
on the natural world for survival and identify tools and items
from the scene to support their point of view. Finally, the
girls are given cardboard frames to select a small area of
the painting on which to focus. Each girl is then asked to
write a clue about what she observes and shares it with the
group. This activity engages the girls in a “Where’s Waldo”
or scavenger-hunt-type of game that encourages close
examination and observation of all the hidden details of
the painting.
In addition to viewing paintings at a museum, the girls also
have opportunities to write creatively about landscape
paintings created in Maggie Tobin’s Upper School art class.
The girls view the landscapes hanging in the hallways as they
would in any other gallery or museum. Each girl studies all of
the student works before selecting one for further reflection.
She then takes notes about the details of her chosen painting,
which she then draws upon to write an imaginative story.
We give the girls parameters for their stories: they are
asked to pretend that they are in the landscape that they
have chosen and to describe the environment, using simile,
metaphor, alliteration, and other figurative language to add
detail to their prose. Next, they are asked to explain how
they got to the landscape and what will happen now that
they are there. This writing assignment, which Mark Donovan
and I developed, supports each girl’s observation skills and
encourages a greater connection to the art as she has not
only to interact with the landscape but also to write creatively
about it.
I hope to continue to use my professional development
opportunities to build my own knowledge of American
painting as well as to collaborate with colleagues to develop
lessons that will support the girls’ comfort in discussing and
writing about art.
ma rch 2013 11
Public Forum Debate
at Nightingale
LE Hartmann-Ting / History
Although Nightingale has had a forensics program since
the 1990s, we decided just last year to compete exclusively
in Public Forum debate. The preparation necessary for this
type of debate complements Nightingale’s academic and
extracurricular program and adds depth to our commitment
to training our students to be confident and prepared
public speakers. Public Forum (PF) is a relatively new genre
of forensics that was originally introduced by Ted Turner in
2003 and inspired by CNN’s “Crossfire.” PF was designed
to fill a niche in the debate world, as longer established
formats such as Policy and Lincoln-Douglas debate lost
some of their appeal. Unlike Policy debate, which requires
students to commit to one resolution (topic) for a whole
year, PF resolutions change each month. This makes it
easier to balance debate with other commitments, and also
introduces students to a broad range of important domestic
and international topics. In addition, unlike Lincoln-Douglas
debate, PF requires students to work in two-person teams,
which provides an important collaborative experience as
well as the security to try something that most people find
intimidating.
Since Public Forum was conceived as a “spectator sport,”
the judging criteria are significantly less technical than for
other forms of debate. When new judges are trained they are
given a bottom line: vote for the team that persuaded you
they were right. Yet PF is a rigorous discipline with structure
and rules that develop research, logic, and speaking skills.
The activity works like this: On the first of each month, the
National Forensics League (the “other” NFL) releases the
resolution for the next month (e.g., the January resolution is
published on December 1). Once the resolution is published,
our students perform “topic analysis,” during which they
dissect the wording of the resolution, list potential arguments
on both the pro and con sides, and discuss possible
frameworks (e.g., net benefits, morality, social contract) that
will be used to justify and weigh their arguments. Once the
team agrees on the shape and scope of the issues at stake,
this year’s co-captains—Sophia Kiam ‘14 and Sarah Allen ‘14—
guide the team’s research efforts, pool evidence, and help
novices (first-year debaters) write their cases.
Then the fun begins. Public Forum debate is fast and focused.
Debate rounds start with the flip of a coin. The team that
12 Faculty Newslette r
wins chooses either the side of the resolution they wish to
represent or whether they will take the advantage of having
the last speech in the round. Once that is established, the
first speaker from each team delivers a four-minute, prepared
speech followed by cross examination. From that point on, all
speeches are extemporaneous. As an example, let’s pretend
that Annie Abruzzo ‘16 and Megan Yang ‘16 (Team A) are
affirming the resolution against Isabella Beroutsos ’15 and
Rebecca Lin ‘15 (Team B) on the current topic: “Resolved: On
balance, the rise of China is beneficial to the interests of the
United States.” A round might look like this: Team A’s Megan
(affirming the resolution) reads a four-minute, prepared,
well-researched speech arguing that the rise of China is in
the interests of the United States. Our debts to China, Megan
asserts, create a mutuality of interests that promise greater
security and has the moral advantage of raising Chinese
people out of rural poverty. In response, Team B’s Isabella
reads her team’s four-minute, prepared speech arguing
that the rise of China is bad for the United States. China’s
rise, she maintains, clearly costs American jobs. Next comes
three minutes of crossfire, when Megan and Isabella take
turns cross examining one another. While the pro team gets
to ask the first question, no team has privilege in control
of the discussion. Thus debaters must learn to command
attention and control the flow of questioning. Following
the crossfire round, Team A’s second speaker, Annie, must
now give a four-minute extemporaneous speech critiquing
the “con” arguments Isabella laid out. Here, Annie needs
to know the economic evidence to refute arguments that
contradict hers, and defend the position that China’s rise
is beneficial to the US economy. Following Annie comes
Rebecca, Team B’s second speaker, who now has four
minutes to extemporaneously critique Megan’s case. Rebecca
hammers the economic vulnerability of the United States
and challenges the pro side’s claim that helping the Chinese
escape poverty is in the US interest. It might be a nice thing
to do, but is that what the resolution is asking us to consider?
Another three-minute crossfire round follows for Annie and
Rebecca to cross examine one another. Effective crossfires
discredit arguments and lay the foundations for attacks to
come. Therefore Rebecca could ask Annie whether or not she
agrees that a government’s primary responsibility ought to be
to its own citizens.
[L to R:] Annie Abruzzo ’16, Megan Yang ’16, Sophia Kiam ’14, and Arlene Casey ’15 work on their arguments.
Thus concludes the “constructive phase” of the round, after
which debaters are forced to focus and narrow the issues at
stake. The round continues with summary speeches that are
shorter—only two minutes—and must therefore be tighter
and more focused on the issues each side hopes the judge
will vote on. When teaching students how to handle this part
of the round, I tell them to imagine their arguments being
pushed through a funnel. All four debaters then duke it out
during one last “grand crossfire,” followed by each side’s two
minute “final focus” speech that offers a last chance to win
the judge over.
Rounds are hard. Our students usually compete against
boys and have to navigate issues of gender and authority
in a fast-paced, high-pressure situation. Debaters do not
politely disagree. They question, contend, undermine, argue,
contradict, and challenge. Students learn to think on their
feet, speak clearly, and not shrink from challenges to their
ideas. All this is compounded by the reality that as women,
our girls need to command the round without alienating
judges who, on occasion, warn our students about being
“too aggressive.”
Nightingale’s debate team competes on the local, state,
and national circuits. Highlights of our schedule include
Bronx Science’s “Big Bronx” tournament each October
and Harvard’s tournament each President’s Day weekend.
(At the time of this writing, in fact, 18 of our students are
preparing to join over 1,000 students from across the country
for three days of debate competition at Harvard University
from February 15–18.) Closer to home, Nightingale competes
regularly against Stuyvesant, Regis, Bronx Science, Hunter,
Trinity, and Fordham. Our greatest challenge—finding time
to practice—is endemic in independent schools. Presently,
we meet Tuesdays after school in room 312, and team
members have added Friday mornings at 7:00 a.m. in the
weeks we compete. The schedule is not ideal, but it shows
the commitment our students develop once they get the
debate bug.
One of our students described the incredible feeling of
being able to argue a point by saying that “the best part of
debate is being told you are wrong. And then proving you are
right.” I wish that kind of confidence for all of our students,
and appreciate greatly the support the school, parents, and
my colleagues have extended to the team.
ma rch 2013 13
Why Women Aren’t Funny
(For Example)
John Loughery / English, Head
For most of the last two decades, Class X English was the
“Great Books” year: a gallop through some classics of Western
literature (Homer to F. Scott Fitzgerald via Shakespeare,
Jane Austen, the Romantics, and Henrik Ibsen, among others),
a mini-mini-version of Columbia’s freshman “Literature
Humanities” and “Contemporary Civilization” program. It is
a premise I thoroughly endorse. While I believe that students
should read in school as many sophisticated novels by living
writers, American writers of color, and non-Western writers as
possible, I also think a grounding in the Western canon, while
fully acknowledging that the canon is a work in progress, an
ever-shifting list of masterpieces, even a challenged entity, is
essential to the achievement of a first-rate education.
Now, of course, this is where the well-trained ear prepares for
the “but” or the “however.”
And, indeed, there was a problem that never ceased to nag
at me with this well-intentioned, jam-packed sophomoreyear syllabus. The reading load was so heavy and the pace
so brisk that it was on to the next book without pause. Done
with The Odyssey, time for Sophocles; Elizabeth Bennet and
Darcy are wed, time for Wordsworth to feel that the world
is too much with us; Nora Helmer slams the door and Daisy
Buchanan walks in. There was precious little time to talk about
the essays the students were working on, and those essays
tended necessarily to be about the literature that had been
discussed to death in class. I didn’t feel that our students in
Class X learned much about writing itself, about the protean
nature of the essay and the strategies that clever writers
employ, no matter how many pages they turned in. So the
department instituted a change that would allow for a firstsemester break in the course’s immersion in the classics and
give us the time and occasion for some highly specific writing
instruction.
First, we had to decide what work or works would be cut to
carve out the space for a five- or six-week writing workshop.
In our rearranging of the course away from a strictly
chronological line, Austen, Shakespeare, and Ibsen, in that
order, formed too good a thematic unit in the autumn to
eliminate—the theme was courtship and marriage—focusing
14 Faculty Newslette r
on Pride and Prejudice, Twelfth Night, and A Doll’s House,
diverse works that raise important ideas about attraction,
love, lust, gender identity, power, and commitment. We also
accepted that Brad Whitehurst would be impossible to live
with if we dropped the Wordsworth-Byron-Shelley-Keats lineup and that giving diplomas to high-school graduates who
hadn’t read The Great Gatsby or Their Eyes Were Watching
God was not a distinction we were eager to embrace. So it
was the Greeks that went. The scowls of Dakouras, Kearney,
and Schapiro were going to have to be endured, and we
would content ourselves with the knowledge that any truly
literate person is apt to read Homer, Oedipus Rex, and
Antigone in college or on her own someday. In fact, it wasn’t
the classics department that we heard from most vehemently;
it was a few very philhellenic parents who made (not
surprisingly) a highly articulate case for keeping The Odyssey.
We forged ahead, nonetheless. (I note in passing that an
elective will be offered for juniors and seniors in the spring of
2014, “Homer: The Iliad and The Odyssey,” and that sixteen
students have already signed up for that course. The decline
of Western civilization gets put off for another day.)
Then came the matter of deciding what would be read and
what writing would be assigned in this new writing workshop.
It wasn’t easy putting together a file of usable essays. That
endeavor is even now (and always will be) a work-in-progress,
but I knew the sort of thing I was looking for. I wanted
essays like Claire Berlinski’s “Ban the Burqa,” which makes
the painful case for limiting religious tolerance and banning
Islamic head and body coverings, or Howard Jacobson’s
impassioned directive to librarians to make their institutions
temples of literacy by eliminating all DVDs and romance
novels. (In his essay collection, Whatever It Is, I Don’t Like
It, this British master of bile actually goes a bit further: he
urges librarians to ban all adults from the premises who have
the bad taste to want to check out the Harry Potter books).
I wanted the students in the workshop to spend time with
writers who found reasons to attack cherished values (e.g.,
Susan Sontag on American defensiveness about 9/11) and to
extol the unextolled (e.g., Mark Slouka’s “Quitting the Paint
Factory: On the Virtues of Idleness” and Joseph Epstein on
the vital role boredom can play in our lives). I wanted them
to have a taste of writers like the late Christopher Hitchens,
who—no matter what one thinks of his politics (sometimes
so savvy, sometimes so wrong-headed)—never wrote a dull
word in his life. His gender-baiting essay “Why Women Aren’t
Funny” became a starting-point model: a title that provided
an immediate, irresistible hook, a tactically cogent tone, a line
of reasoning that was archly persuasive, and a subtle mixture
of the serious and the playful. If the goal of the workshop
could be summarized in a single phrase, it would be: to ignite
a Christopher Hitchens-like spark in all our writers.
We also accepted that
Brad Whitehurst would be
impossible to live with if we
dropped the WordsworthByron-Shelley-Keats line-up
and that giving diplomas to
high-school graduates who
hadn’t read The Great Gatsby
or Their Eyes Were Watching God
was not a distinction we were
eager to embrace. So it was
the Greeks that went.
The result of all this? Sherwyn Smith and I read essays
about the use of the “F word” at Nightingale (“Fuller”),
the wisdom of not tapping into government funds to rebuild
the Rockaways, the brutality of all pet ownership, the need
to end the stigma associated with flatulence in public (don’t
ask: the writer was promised anonymity), and paeans to
pessimism, procrastination, and legalized prostitution. We
read about banning smart phones for minors, legislating the
hours working mothers can be away from their children, and
ending the tyranny of the gym and health-club fanatics. We
read about the right to obesity, the value of elitism, and an
attack on World Religions as no more than a course in fairy
tales. As you can well imagine, these topics themselves and
the freedom we urged on our students from straightjacket
notions of the structure of an essay (e.g., “Be sure to include
a thesis sentence at the end of your first paragraph,” “Restate
your main idea in your conclusion,” “Be careful not to rile or
alienate the reader”) led to a freshness of prose, an originality
of structure, and a feistiness in attitude that both writer and
readers found, at times, quite exciting.
The workshop involves considerably more drafting and
mandatory one-on-one teacher meetings than Upper-School
essays usually entail, and the students have to become used
to the idea of vigorous peer-group editing. Everyone reads
her work aloud, even when it is far from finished or polished,
and everyone is called upon to provide feedback about titles
and opening paragraphs, length and closing lines, voice
and degrees of provocation. No fading into the background
allowed. Some of the most helpful comments come from
other students, whose advice can in some circumstances carry
more weight than the teacher’s. The whiteboard is filled with
lists of “literary strategies,” of the technical effects a writer
might want to strive for and the avenues to that end, and the
dead-ends she is likely to confront along the way. By the end
of the semester, I hope very few students still think of an essay
as a plain summary of their beliefs, an artless and honest
statement of a thesis forthrightly expressed with x-number of
examples and proofs. I hope they come to see redundancy
and filler as the Devil’s work.
“The secret of writing a good essay,” the British writer J.B.
Priestley once noted, “is to let yourself go.” Priestley
wasn’t arguing the merits of formlessness or self-indulgence.
He was speaking of the need to look beyond prepackaged
ideas and readymade structures, to see writing as an act of
intellectual exploration. He was indirectly reminding us that
the essay is an art form no less than fiction, poetry, and
drama. As such, the essayist is an artist, and that means she
must be as attentive to craft and audience perception as
to content. To whatever extent student writers absorb this
truth, a writing workshop serves its exhausting, exhilarating,
long-range purpose.
ma rch 2013 15
Library Update
Diane Neary / Head Librarian
Libraries have been in the forefront in independent schools
in terms of moving into the digital world. The transition from
those rows and rows of solid wood card catalog drawers to
modern online catalogs began over twenty-five years ago.
The digitized book record was only the beginning of a long
series of changes that seems to gather momentum every
day. The Nightingale library collection is neither all digital nor
all print. We know that the world of books, publishing, and
libraries is in a dizzying state of transition and we know how
important it is to remain on the lookout for the best available
resources in the most accessible formats. Today, Nightingale’s
library continues to keep pace with ongoing change at
the same time that it aims to hold on to those parts of the
traditional library that are most important to our mission.
One of the valuable—most definitely non-digital—resources
we offer our students are opportunities to meet and learn
from contemporary authors. Thanks to the visits organized by
Lower School librarian Lois Strell and Middle School librarian
Nora Lidell, our Lower and Middle School girls have had
the opportunity to meet and hear from well-known authors,
as well as to ask them questions about their work. Quite
a bit of preparation goes into these visits: the book is, of
course, the most essential starting point, and both Ms. Strell
and Ms. Lidell are experts at finding just the right books to
build excitement among our young readers. Usually, when
one book is a hit, the author’s other titles are likely to be of
interest as well. Such has been the case this year with the
works of Julia DeVillers in the Lower School (whose LIBERTY
PORTER won first place in Class II for the Lower School Book
Election) and Raina Telgemeier in the Middle School (whose
hit books Smile—all six copies—and Drama—another six
copies!—have been in great demand as well). Authors are
rock stars here, and the girls are always thrilled to see a
favorite author in person. After the Middle School assembly,
students lined up to get Ms. Telgemeier’s autograph on their
books, napkins, and even on one girl’s hand!
In the realm of digital resources, the librarians have been
reviewing our current holdings as well as experimenting with
new ways to acquire and share e-books. We are collaborating
with teachers as we test various kinds of e-books on multiple
platforms. We want to see how sample books behave on
desktop computers, laptops, and iPads. Questions about
16 Faculty Newslette r
individual use, classroom use, and library-lending models are
part of our current studies. It is unlikely that we will find one
single device or distributor that will suit all of our needs, so
we are looking for the best fit for each age level in our school
environment. Two of our most recently reviewed methods for
accessing e-books are the Follett Shelf e-book collection and
the iPad app called Subtext.
Follett e-books, which may only be used by one reader at a
time, are accessible directly through our library catalog. Once
readers log in and borrow the e-book, they can add notes,
highlight text, or have the text read aloud. The e-books
may be read on screen and returned to the “virtual shelf” or
borrowed for two to three weeks. Most of our current Follett
collection consists of non-fiction titles, collected with an eye
to supporting Middle School research. In collaboration with
Class III homeroom teachers Fernanda Winthrop and Naomi
Hayashi, the librarians have begun to explore Follett fiction
titles for use on the iPad. Thus far, teachers and librarians are
still exploring and have yet to settle on a format for class use,
although we do expect to have more e-book fiction titles for
general use in our collection soon.
Subtext is a free app for the iPad. It is a reader app created
for classrooms or reading groups which enables group
discussions, quizzes, or embedded assignments. The app
provides the platform while teachers or librarians acquire
and distribute digital copies of selected books. Similar to
other digital reading tools, this app requires one-to-one
ownership of texts. Currently, the librarians and some Lower
School teachers are testing Subtext in order to determine
its usability in our school setting. We are raising questions
about its ease of use, availability of appropriate titles, and
cost. As with every e-book acquisition and delivery system,
this app requires librarians and teachers to work through a
number of administrative and distribution issues, and we are
working through the challenges posed by reading in groups
or individually with e-books.
All three librarians, Lois Strell, Nora Lidell, and Diane Neary,
will continue to develop both the physical and the virtual
library collections, all the while staying closely connected
to our readers and our faculty. Stop by the library to see
what’s new!
iPad Pilot Program:
Updates From Our Faculty
Nightingale is five months into its iPad pilot program, and
the technology department is excited by the creative and
innovative ways our faculty are using these devices in their
teaching and professional activities. Rather than keep this
information to ourselves, we asked a few teachers to share
how they are incorporating iPads into their teaching. Below,
in their own words, are their answers.
—Adam Van Auken, Director of Technology
Marilina Kim
Having the iPad is having many heavy things in one small
package. I no longer carry—nor have to constantly look
for—a planner, several AP textbooks and answer books,
dictionaries of several languages, a chronometer, a calculator,
my iPod, PDF files, or microphones. On top of that, I have
access to many news sources in foreign languages, which I
can read and easily save for classes. A few of the apps have
also helped me organize PDF files by subject and theme,
making them easy to access. All of these things have helped
my organization and clutter management, allowing me to be
more efficient with my time. For example, when I have my
iPad and material to grade that requires me to use a book
as a reference, I am no longer limited by the absence of the
book. I can just pop open the file with the copy of the book
and grade.
I have found the iPad most useful in my coaching and in
the AP Spanish class I teach. In cross country, I was able to
use an app to easily calculate scores as runners finished and
another app for keeping a record of times for each run. In
the AP class, I have been able to use apps to play audio
recordings from different sources. Yes, I could have done this
with the computer, but the iPad makes the process much
more efficient. Before, I would look for audios on a Web
site at home, e-mail the link to myself, save it (optional), and
play it in class. If I wanted to post questions on the SMART
Board for students to read while the recording played, the
board got messy. Now, I can open the app and play the audio
independently of what is on the board. Another wonderful
thing about the iPad/iPhone in general (not mine, but the
girls’) is that students can easily send me voice recordings
via these devices.
Nicole Seibert
When the iPad pilot program was launched, I immediately
jumped at the opportunity to test its viability as a classroom
teaching tool. Although my first encounter with the iPad
over a year ago led me to think that the limitations of the
tool might outweigh its benefits, my initial misgivings quickly
transformed into a multitude of creative ideas. So many,
in fact, that I found myself completely overwhelmed. As
I continued my exploration of the iPad, however, I found
several simple ways to integrate it into my classroom and,
with further planning, developed a few lessons to incorporate
into the curriculum.
I started out simply by using AirServer to project my
PowerPoint presentations onto the SMART Board. Students
who brought iPads of their own could access the same
presentation on Moodle and follow along with me, which
allowed them to use a stylus to annotate their own versions
of the presentation. By importing my SMART Notes files into
the app Notability, I could add notes to my files right on the
iPad. The iPad has meant that I am no longer restricted to
the front of the classroom; many students have even started
completing homework and submitting it digitally, making
paper unnecessary.
Last spring, I modified Class VII’s annual final project and
presentation on space science to make better use of the
iPad’s capabilities. Instead of asking students to make a
PowerPoint presentation (at which they are quite adept), I
decided to have them create a podcast video using the app
Explain Everything. They were able to create the presentation,
add the vocal component, and save it as a video file to be
presented on the class Moodle page. More recently, this
year’s Class VII students made their first attempt at creating
a podcast to present their research on a chosen volcano.
Podcasts involve both a visual and an oral presentation, and
the students used a number of apps to find their information.
Interestingly, their first impulse was to create a PowerPoint
for the visual portion of the presentation and they were
hesitant at first to use a new approach. They rose to the
challenge, however, and used Explain Everything to create
both components. Their final products instilled a strong
sense of pride and confidence in their ability to learn new
technical skills.
ma rch 2013 17
Claire Anderson
Class IV uses the iPads in a variety of ways. Using the
WordPress app, the girls blog about events in the classroom
to share with their parents, who can then leave comments on
the site, which can be found at enightingale.org/blogs/classiv.
This helps to build a strong school/home partnership as
parents interact with their daughters to learn more about the
school day. We also use the iPads as study aids. The girls use
various apps such as Spelling City, Enjoy Learning US Map
Puzzles, and US State Capitals to prepare for tests. Finally, the
girls have been using Word Mover in their reading groups to
write poetry in response to the novels read in class; their final
works have been displayed in the Anderson homeroom.
Scott Meikle
The iPad has proved itself useful to my art program in a
number of ways. When combined with the Apple TV installed
in the art studio, my iPad serves as a conveniently portable
image-storage and access system from which I can project
student art as well as images from the world at large onto a
window blind that doubles as a projector screen. I use an app
that allows illustrative lines and text to be quickly added to
an existing image, and my students have done so as well to
good effect.
I’ve also used the iPad to film students at work to use as
a self-diagnostic teaching tool. Filming has also allowed
students to present demonstrations that I then show to
different class sections. In addition, I have found it useful
during lessons to quickly flash an image onscreen that
reinforces the concept/process students are exploring,
which allows me to underline pertinent information in a
non-intrusive way: students merely look up, then get back
to work.
students can simply snap a picture with their iPad camera
and then write over the picture to add details and point out
key ideas. During lab work, students are able to take pictures
of the lab set up and record results to assist them when they
are preparing their lab reports. If a girl is absent, the students
e-mail her data and pictures so she can see what she missed.
In classes where a PowerPoint presentation is posted on
Moodle, my students have the slides available on their iPads
and write directly onto each slide. I have even had students
who record answers to a homework quiz on their iPad and
then e-mail the file to me. Roughly half of my homework
assignments in biology are submitted, graded, and returned
to students via an electronic file; no paper is required!
Although I have not taken class time to teach these skills, nor
to instruct students about how to effectively utilize the iPad,
its use has presented problem-solving opportunities, and our
students have risen to the challenge. I believe that a tablet
device of some type is the ring binder of this generation, and
educators need to embrace the possibilities.
Annette Rodríguez
Last May, I went into the tech office to beg Adam Van Auken
for laptops to use in skills class. Instead of hearing the tired “I
have to talk to Marina” line, I was offered a personal iPad for
each girl! There was no negotiation involved; it was a gift to
an often overlooked group of students. The primary goal was
to equip girls with a computer-like system to link to Moodle,
access the Internet, and “word process.” The result has
been very positive. The applications that are most frequently
used are for taking notes and making index cards. These
are punctuated with multi-sensory components, including
graphics, animation, handwritten notations, and audio. The
product is personalized, and while the benefits of the “bells
and whistles” in the products is hard to gauge, it is obvious to
us that the level of student engagement is higher because of
them. The students are absorbed in their notetaking and they
are more likely to reread their notes as well.
Roz Smith
I use the Screen Chomp app for spelling practice. The girls
enjoy using the different colors they can select for their
writing as well as using the quick eraser. I also use Voice
Memo and record my girls’ oral reading: each week I record
them and we periodically listen to their previous recordings
so the girls can hear the progress they are making as the year
progresses. I also use the information gained to meet with
each girl individually to discuss oral reading techniques that
will help to improve her fluency and expression.
Class VII and VIII students have installed audio versions of
A Midsummer’s Night Dream and Macbeth; they listen to
a dramatic rendition as they read along on the iPad and
make margin notes in their book. It is a sight to behold the
concentration in their faces as they literally plug in to the play.
We can tell that there is a lot more “reading” and superior
comprehension with the use of the audio app.
Charlotte Jennings
I have enjoyed watching my students discover the many
ways they can effectively utilize iPads as an everyday tool in
the classroom. They have acted responsibly, and once the
novelty of the new device wore off, the work began. Most of
my students enjoy using Notability or a similar note-taking
app to organize and take notes. They are able to type, write
with a stylus, add images, highlight, and add color, much in
the same way that I write on the SMART Board. When the
slide we are discussing is an intricate graph or diagram, the
Although we have designed a series of reading and writing
lessons, it seems that the more self-directed aspects of
using the iPad will be most beneficial to the girls in our skills
pilot program. Exams are on the horizon—will there be
fewer stacks of index cards and (misplaced) wrinkled paper
scattered around? Possibly. As a more intimate and localized
interaction with the iPad emerges, there is the potential
of harnessing the capabilities of students who would have
otherwise been overwhelmed with folders overflowing with
information.
18 Faculty Newslette r
Naomi Hayashi and Fernanda Winthrop
The iPads have been a welcome addition to the Class III
curriculum. The girls are of course thrilled to be piloting oneto-one use of the devices in the Lower School and have been
excellent guinea pigs as we learn and experiment with ways
to integrate technology across the curriculum. The program in
the third grade is unique in that the girls have the opportunity
to use the iPads in every aspect of their school life, from math
and reading to science, music, and homeroom. While there
has been quite a lot to juggle logistically, the broad reach of
the program has allowed us to experiment more widely.
In math class, we have used the iPad for routine fact practice,
spicing up the multiplication tables with game-style apps like
Operation Math, or apps that record practice and progress
such as Math Board. The app Skitch has allowed the girls to
explore the schoolhouse for evidence of math (for example,
multiplication in the form of arrays), and to take and annotate
photographs of what they find.
In reading and social studies, we have had great success
using apps designed by ReadWriteThink and the National
Council of Teachers of English: Trading Cards gives girls
the opportunity to explore reading concepts like character
development, historical events, or new vocabulary by
answering guiding questions that range from basic
information to more conceptual thinking, and Word Mover is
essentially an electronic version of refrigerator magnet poetry.
The girls craft free form and often poetic responses to their
reading, pulling from a higher level of vocabulary. Recently,
the girls engaged in a particularly worthwhile exercise using
Word Mover: in honor of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., the girls
rearranged the words from the “I have a Dream” speech in
order to express their feelings on issues of importance. The
girls practiced their oral reading by recording before the iPad
video camera passages from the novels studied in class. They
were then able to play it back to themselves and hear areas
where improvements might be made.
One of the most valuable benefits of the iPad, we have
found, is its unique ability to give each student a voice.
Using interactive white board apps like Educreations or the
particularly child-friendly ScreenChomp, each girl has had
the opportunity to “teach” a lesson based upon what she
is learning in class. Students can sketch and explain the
box method of multiplication or concepts like multiples
and fractions, confidently volunteering their understanding
and information to the iPad when perhaps it is intimidating
to do so before a group of peers. Recently, we’ve begun
using Google Drive with the girls. Teachers can create
shared folders for each reading or math group in order to
collect student work (photographs, digital projects, written
documents) and distribute assignments.
Perhaps one of the biggest challenges we’ve encountered is
finding ways to ensure that use of the iPad does not diminish
the opportunity for group work that so frequently happens in
the Lower School. Learning from the thoughts and ideas of
others is a large part of our program, and so we continue to
seek out new apps and tools that support this approach.
ma rch 2013 19
Perspectives on the People
of Color Conference
STUDENT REFLECTIONS
The Student Diversity Leadership Conference (SDLC) gathers
students from all over the country to talk about issues of
diversity and social justice and develop strategies for effective
cross-cultural communication; the conference also provides
students with a safe and welcoming space in which to explore
important parts of their identities. This year’s SDLC was held
in Houston, and six students from Nightingale’s Upper School
attended: Valerie Cardozo, Traciann Celestin, Grace McLeod,
Yacine Niang, Caroline Schoen, and Sydney Vann. Thanks to
these students for representing Nightingale, and for sharing
some of their experiences in the following reflections.
—Laura Kirk
Appreciation
Valerie Cardozo / Class XII
My experience at SDLC made me realize how good we have
it at Nightingale. I had always appreciated the Nightingale
community and found it to be a safe and loving place, but
hearing other people’s experiences from other schools
made me realize that Nightingale is a unique environment.
Some people felt discriminated at their schools, but—when
reflecting upon my own experience at Nightingale—I have
never felt anything other than love and support, and I greatly
appreciate this every day. I felt that I was introduced to a
whole new world at SDLC because I met people with so
many different stories and opinions than my own. I find that
sometimes I forget there is a totally different world outside
these blue doors that isn’t as kind and open as Nightingale,
and SDLC opened my eyes to this. I never want to leave
Nightingale and I yearned for the friends I made at SDLC to
find a community as caring and understanding as my own.
Elements of a Leader
Traciann Celestin / Class X
“Live the life you came here to lead.” This was the greatest
charge SDLC left with me. I truly learned the elements of a
leader. My definition of a leader is someone who accepts that
she or he has a powerful story to share with others in order to
inspire. It is a person who has come to accept that everyone
should be held on the same pedestal regardless of their
race, gender, religion, sexual orientation, or any of society’s
constraining factors. My SDLC family—all 1,387 of us—are
leaders. We all went to Houston that weekend to share our
20 Faculty Newslette r
stories with people who cared and listened. Tears were
shed. Eyes were opened. Lives were saved. Magic occurred.
After SDLC 2012, I can honestly say that I am living the life
I came here to lead.
Where Have You Been?
Grace McLeod / Class XII
In the opening minutes of the conference, Rodney Glasgow,
the director of SDLC, stood before an audience of 1,500
students and asked us where we had been. The boy on my
left dropped his eyes to the floor; the girl in front of me
looked around her as if she would somehow find the answer
in the hundreds of faces in the auditorium. There was no one
word to use, no key identifier, no easy answer. Where have
I been?
I’ve been watching Cultural Night every year in the mindset
of a cultureless spectator. I’ve been embarrassed to take taxis
from Tribeca to school. I’ve been unsure of where to look
while changing with my teammates in the locker room. I’ve
been privileged. I’ve been shopping for clothes that people
expect me to wear and not the clothes that I necessarily like
to wear. I’ve been terrified of failing.
After I had contemplated this question for a few minutes,
I sat on the edge of my seat, eagerly anticipating what was
to come next. To say that my expectations were high would
be an understatement. I came to Houston expecting nothing
less than enlightening answers, life-altering workshops,
and inspiring speakers. The speakers were excellent, the
workshops informative, and there were a few interesting
answers that were suggested over the course of three days,
but it became apparent quickly that the power of SDLC lay
not in its format or program, but in the people present and
all of the places they had been. I used to think of diversity solely as a matter of individual
identity. Who are you? What do you look like? What do you
believe? SDLC provided the simple one-word identifiers
that answer these questions, but from the very beginning,
the discussion was taken one step further. When I attended
the first LGBTQIA affinity group meeting, the word “gay”
suddenly seemed less charged to me. There was no agenda
in that room except for the sole goal of finding common
ground, and acceptance was understood, not talked about.
It was a powerful thing to feel that, for the first time in my
life, I was surrounded by people who were just like me. As
the conference ended, I appreciated that I had been in a
convention center full of those people for three whole days.
We, the 1,500 students, were of different backgrounds and
ways of life, but we had all been to the same places at some
point. We had all felt the same angers, the same loves, the
same disappointments. It was this communal bond—this
deep understanding—that was the ultimate take-home
message. As we shared our stories, it became clear that
although we need to celebrate our differences, our similarities
are what unite us.
Sometimes, in our ardent quest to be individuals, we forget
that in many ways we are exactly the same. Reminding
ourselves should be the paramount diversity initiative.
Finding My Place
Yacine Niang / Class X
The most moving experience I ever had in my life happened
at the SDLC. I was in a group that was charged with
discussing the eight social identifiers and the ways in which
different people connected to these identifiers. I found myself
learning a lot but not being very emotionally affected—until
our last meeting, when everything changed. We started
with our facilitators turning all the lights in the room off and
placing four candles in each corner of the room. We were
told to speak if compelled to do so, and people told the most
heartwrenching stories. I heard stories of child abduction,
child molestation, struggles with eating disorders, bullying
in school, and lots more. I even told some stories of my own
struggle finding my place in my huge family. I cried so hard—
for myself, the other kids in the room, the kids at Nightingale
who had stories to tell but didn’t know how to tell them, and
because I felt so happy that I could make someone feel so
safe that they would tell me a story that they’ve never even
told their own family.
This experience as a whole reminded me that under every
smiling face is a sad story waiting to be told, and that I should
open myself up more so that people feel comfortable talking
to me about any issue that they may have. It also made
me realize that I had to learn to be more sensitive towards
people—especially if I don’t know them well—because I can
hurt someone’s feelings without meaning to. I also learned
not to generalize because not everyone comes from the same
background or has had the same experiences as I have.
ma rch 2013 21
Your Story
Caroline Schoen / Class XII
As I walked into the auditorium in Houston, filled with 2,000
other individuals, it finally hit me that I was back at SDLC.
I had been thinking about this moment since my return
home from Philadelphia last year, and I could not contain
my excitement at the thought of being a part of the SDLC
community once again. I looked at Val, Grace, Sydney, Traci,
and Yacine, noticing the eager grins that encompassed their
faces. I knew that they were the perfect girls to be at the
conference, and I was excited for them to start their incredible
SDLC journey while I continued mine.
When our chaperones picked us up the first night, we were
exhausted, but ecstatic to be back together and eager to
share stories from our day. The six of us huddled in one
room and took turns talking about the inspiring people we
had met, enlightening activities we had participated in, and
the emotional exhaustion we were all feeling. I reflected
on the three students who, during the opening ceremonies,
had shared with everyone at the conference their stories
about what was holding them back in life, and the impact
their stories had on me. While listening to these stories in
the crowd of students, there was an intense feeling of love,
support, and connectedness among everyone in the audience.
I began to think, what was my story? What was holding
me back in life? I knew these were big questions, but I was
inspired by these brave students to discover the answers.
The next night, we all gathered with even more stories and
anecdotes from the day. It seemed that I had not been the
only one thinking about these questions. As we were talking,
I felt connected to and supported by my Nightingale family
in ways I never thought possible. Discovering that the feeling
was mutual, we began sharing our answers to these questions.
We were sharing things that we had never told anyone before,
but wanted to in order to accept these things as part of our
being. Ten years from now, I might not remember the exact
definition of institutionalized oppression, but I will remember
the moments that I helped others come to terms with their
stories while they helped me accept mine. For this, I am
infinitely grateful.
Your story is a part of who you are. Discover it, accept it, and
share it. You may even make lifelong friends in the process.
Taking a Stand
Sydney Vann / Class XI
The room was completely silent, but at the same time,
overwhelmingly loud. No one said a word, but you could
feel the harbored pain of the 50 kids sitting on the
geometric-printed rug of Room 894 resonating in your
soul. The room was covered with phrases such as “lean
into discomfort,” “say what’s core,” “value yourself and
22 Faculty Newslette r
your opinion,” “be comfortable with silence,” and “listen
and prosper.” Each face was diverse, each background was
different, and no story was alike—but everyone in the room
was unified as one. We were all committed to the overall
purpose of the conference: coming to terms with yourself,
learning about all aspects of diversity, and taking a stand to
make the world a more loving and less ignorant place to live.
It was the last family-group session of the conference,
after two days of discussions on the eight social identifiers:
age, ethnicity, sexual orientation, gender, race, religion,
socio-economic class, and ability. Our facilitators covered the
first seven, but wanted to save ability for last. Throughout
the first two days, we were not close enough yet to live up
to the notion of our becoming a family. We were reserved.
We were afraid of letting our guards down. We learned a lot
and shared our opinions on different topics, but we didn’t go
under the surface. For most of the kids, it was the first time
they had ever even gotten close to coming to terms with
the stories of their past or exposing a part of themselves to
anyone, let alone strangers.
“Hey, I know this is off topic, but can I share something?” my
friend asked as she stood up and broke the awkward silence.
We all said yes and let her go on. “This identifier of ability
means the most to me. You see, I’ve struggled the past five
years of my life with suicide attempts and an eating disorder.”
She went on in tears, exposing her story to us all, entrusting it
with us. She initiated a domino effect of every single person
in the room (including myself) telling their deepest, darkest
secrets, bringing their full selves forward, breaking down their
shells, and coming to terms with who they are. Some people
fell to their knees in hysteria, some couldn’t stop shaking, and
some forgot how to use words. We held hands and embraced
each other in this room full of love and support. We were
finally a family.
It was at this very moment when I truly understood what
SDLC stood for. It’s a powerful, unforgettable conference
based upon bravery, love, and the reassurance that you’re
never alone. The facilitators were waiting for this moment to
happen; it happens every year—but it’s only sparked by the
students. It’s an electrifying journey of self-acceptance that
truly opens your eyes. You would never have expected the
happiest and prettiest looking girl in the room who seemed
utterly perfect to be dealing with depression after she was
raped by a family member two years prior. You would never
have expected the hot football jock of the group to be the
product of constant verbal and physical abuse from his family.
I learned more about myself in these three days than I could
ever have achieved in a lifetime. I came back to Nightingale
empowered with a greater sense of self and the ambition
and tools to make our world a less ignorant and unaccepting
place to live.
FACULTY REFLECTIONS
People of Color Conference
Linda Field / History
Although I am not a person of color (I’m one of the “clear
people,” as someone at a long-ago diversity conference I
attended put it), I was able to attend the People of Color
Conference (PoCC) this year as part of my introduction
to “official” diversity work. I have been to many diversity
conferences over the years—I attended the National
Association of Independent Schools (NAIS) Summer Diversity
Institute in 1990—but I always find that there is something new
to learn, a new insight that I had never considered, a different
practice that might help us in our work here. The PoCC
was no exception. The combination of keynote speeches,
workshops, affinity group discussions (White/European
Heritage/European American, and then white women), and
regional discussions (New York State, and then NYC-Upper
East Side with students) gave me a lot to think about.
In general, I found the keynote speeches the most
thought-provoking. Over the three days we were in Houston,
I heard from:
• Helene Cooper, a Liberian-born journalist who fled to the US
in 1980 with her mother and sister and is now a White House
correspondent for The New York Times;
• Dan Choi, a Korean-American Christian who graduated from
West Point, is fluent in Arabic, and served in Iraq but was
discharged for violating “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” and is now
an activist for LGBT civil rights and veterans’ health;
• Kim Phuc Phan Thi, the “girl in the picture” running down a
road in Vietnam screaming from the pain of napalm burns,
who is now a Canadian citizen and an international advocate
for children who have been victimized by war; and
• Baratunde Thurston, a young African-American comedian
who graduated from Sidwell Friends School in Washington,
DC and Harvard University, works for The Onion, and has
written a book entitled How to Be Black.
Each of these people spoke from his or her own experience
and, in the process, touched on issues of race, ethnicity,
religion, class, and sexual orientation that are part of the
lives of many in our community. The strength, determination,
and optimism of these speakers—in the face of all manner
of difficulty and, in some cases, unspeakable hardship and
tragedy—were deeply inspiring. Their resilience, and that of
their families, gave me a model that I hope to carry with me
always.
The affinity groups and regional discussions were also very
interesting. The regional conversations reminded me how
fortunate we are to be in a large urban area, with many
schools with which to exchange ideas as well as large
communities of various ethnicities so that our students don’t
feel isolated in all facets of their lives. Some schools outside
of New York City might have no neighbor schools with which
to hold joint meetings or events, and the teachers and
students can really feel like “voices crying in the wilderness.”
I was reminded to make use of the variety of ideas and
experiences in our larger community, both to help all of
our students experience worlds outside their own and to
find ideas and practices that can be incorporated into our
community to make it a more inclusive, interesting place.
I was somewhat skeptical of the value of a white person’s
affinity group, but that experience also proved to be valuable;
it actually gave me some clarity about the role of affinity
groups in general, something that I have had conflicting
ideas about before now. Affinity groups were presented
as “communities within a community” that can strengthen
students’ connections to the school as a whole rather than
contribute to its fragmentation. I learned that Allen-Stevenson,
for example, has affinity groups for grades four through six
and seven through nine: Boys of Color at Allen-Stevenson
(BOCAS) and the Explorations of Culture and Heritage
Organization (ECHO—their name for the affinity group for
white students). These groups are voluntary, mentored by
faculty members, and meet at lunchtime once a week for the
boys to discuss issues of race and culture that have either
come up in the school or are of wider interest.
For most of the three days of the conference, teachers
and students were separated—the students attended the
Student Diversity Leadership Conference, which was held
at the same location and which Yacine Niang described in
a recent Spectator article. [See also the student reflections
immediately preceding.] On the last day, however, our entire
Nightingale group met with the group from Spence; the
students had planned an activity that they hoped would allow
us all to share some of what we had learned and what we
hoped to bring back to our schools. I was very proud of our
girls. They were serious and articulate both about what they
value at Nightingale and where they see the need for change.
In her Spectator article, Yacine wrote that the conference
changed her life, and many students who have attended
SDLC have said the same. Although I don’t think that my
experience at PoCC affected me in such a dramatic way, it
was still definitely worth the money the school spent and the
time and energy it took for me to go. I came home with a
broader perspective, some new ideas and new connections,
ma rch 2013 23
renewed energy for the multiple tasks ahead of me, and even
greater respect for the intelligence, integrity, and positive
commitment of our students. I would be happy to describe
my experience in more detail for anyone who is interested,
and I encourage anyone who is interested in issues relating to
diversity to consider attending one of the many conferences
that NAIS and NYSAIS organize on the topic.
•W
ork out during the work day if time permits. If not, find
a way to “remove and improve” to make way for physical
activity.
My First Experience at the PoCC
•S
tudies show that by adding physical activity to our lives,
we become more socially active—it boosts our confidence
and provides us an opportunity to meet people.
Eileen Saguirer / Physical Education
•K
eep the exercise fun and varied and do not be afraid to
try something new. Most importantly, do what helps your
mind feel at ease.
•F
ind a workout buddy.
•D
o a five-day challenge of exercising 20 minutes a day
and determine if your stress levels decrease. Only you can
measure that.
Another highlight of the trip was meeting Kim Phuc Phan Thi,
who was the little girl running naked from a napalm bomb
attack in the iconic Pulitzer Prize–winning photograph from
the Vietnam War. In the 40 years since the photo was taken,
she has turned her traumatic experience into an incredible
success story, and I found her inspirational message of love
and forgiveness both powerful and uplifting.
Eileen Saguirer and Kim Phuc Phan Thi
This year, I was fortunate enough to attend my first NAIS
People of Color Conference in Houston, Texas. One of the
highlights of the trip was getting to know better—outside of
the blue doors—the colleagues and students who traveled
with me.
The conference gave me the opportunity to network and
build connections with others who are committed to building
and sustaining independent school communities for people
of color. Attendees were able to share stories, resources and
opportunities for students, teachers, and schools.
One of the conference sessions, entitled “Keep It Moving:
Reduce Stress During the Work Week,” focused on
encouraging faculty and staff members, as well as students,
to find a healthy balance on a daily basis. Here are the key
points from the session that I want to pass on to you:
• Find 20–30 minutes each day to incorporate physical activity
for stress reduction.
24 Faculty Newslette r
London, as Imagined
Heather Beveridge / Director of College Counseling
My arrival in London last March was filled with much less
anxiety than the first time I was there in 1994, when I passed
through on my way to and from visiting friends in St. Andrews,
Scotland. Without a cell phone or Google maps, I spent
that flight unable to sleep, wondering whether I would be
able to figure out how to navigate from Victoria Station to
Kings Cross in time to catch my train; what would happen
if my friend was not there to meet me when I stepped off
of the train in Edinburgh; and if it would be obvious to
everyone who looked at me that I was an unsophisticated
American traveling abroad for the very first time. In 2012, I
felt excitement coupled with at least a bit more confidence
as I made my way through customs, onto the tube, and then
through Hammersmith to the campus of St. Paul’s (the boys’
school) where St. Paul’s Girls’ School (SPGS) had arranged for
me to stay. After quickly settling in, I walked back over the
Hammersmith Bridge to figure out the best route to SPGS,
ate my first truly English meal (fish and chips with a side of
mushy peas), and then made my way to take a quick peek at
Buckingham Palace. London was in the midst of preparations
for both the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee and the Olympic
Games, so everything in the city was bright and shiny.
As I left for SPGS the following morning, I gathered my things
together to the rhythmic pounding of dozens of balls being
bounced, hit, and chased by scores of Lower School boys
as they burned off some energy before sitting down to their
lessons. When I arrived at SPGS, I was given a tour of the
school by one of the girls who had visited Nightingale earlier
in the year as well as a member of our own Class XI who was
just starting her two-week-long exchange. There are obvious
physical differences between SPGS and Nightingale—the
buildings are older and there is much more room than at
Nightingale—but I was struck by how much seemed familiar:
the girls themselves, the small classes, the energy.
After a lunch with faculty, I spent the afternoon with the
higher education coordinators. Over the past several years,
many more “Paulinas” have considered studying in the US,
and the counselors at St. Paul’s were eager to review what
they were doing to see if it made sense to someone who
ma rch 2013 25
was more familiar with the US system. While the application
process in the UK differs a great deal from that in the US (ours
is more holistic, considering non-academic factors to a much
greater extent), some of their concerns would sound familiar
to any college counselor at an independent school here: How
do we get students to consider a broader range of schools
rather than just those that top the rankings? What is a healthy
level of parental involvement in the college application
process? How can we get the girls to focus on enjoying what
they are learning now rather than viewing it as a stop on their
way to university?
Although many of our responsibilities as counselors were the
same, there were two differences that struck me. The first
was the extent to which career advice is incorporated into
the higher education advising. While this makes sense given
the structure of undergraduate study in the UK (three years
rather than four, and students may enter into a professional
course, such as law or medicine, directly) and the choices
students need to make in terms of the examinations for which
they will sit, it is very different than working with the majority
of Nightingale girls, very few of whom have decided upon a
definite course of study. The second difference was the large
number of Paulinas who take a gap year before entering
university, not to mention the amount of work the school
does in assisting students in finding placements for that year.
The timing of my trip also gave me an opportunity to sit in
on classes while students were focused on preparing for
their examinations. The strong intellect of the students was
apparent in the questions they posed to their teachers as well
as the level of discourse. However, just as the conversation
took an unexpected and intriguing turn, the instructor would
often interrupt and say something such as, “While that is a
very good point, in the examination that will not be of interest
so you should not address that point in your essay.”
26 Faculty Newslette r
My time at St. Paul’s ended with my inclusion on an outing
with the graduating class and their advisors. The school was
looking for ways to give the girls more opportunities to bond
as a class, so the advisors to the senior class had arranged for
them to have dinner together in Soho, followed by a show in
the West End. While Mexican food and Legally Blonde might
not have been my first choices, it was a wonderful opportunity
to speak with the girls informally and to connect with the
SPGS faculty who work most closely with their senior girls.
Over the next few days, I toured Imperial College as well as
the colleges that make up the University of London, spent a
day with a former New York University colleague who is now
a college counselor at the American School in London, and
went on a day trip to Oxford. I also had time to follow some
of the excellent advice given to me—a first-time visitor to
London—from Sally Edgar, a veteran. The Cromwell Road
entrance to the Natural History Museum, the ceramic staircase
and Victorian tearooms at the Victoria and Albert Museum,
the John Soane’s Museum, and the Royal Observatory at
Greenwich all lived up to Sally’s descriptions.
While I have referred back to what I learned at SPGS and
the colleges I visited frequently this year, what has stuck with
me most from my trip is just the experience of London itself.
Like Anna Quindlen, whose excellent book Imagined London
I read in preparation for my trip, I grew up reading and
reading about London. Before I ever arrived, I felt I knew the
city—at least the London of Sherlock Holmes and countless
other mystery series, the London of the Forsyte family, and
the London of the Cazalets. During my free days, I mapped
out routes that would take me through parts of London I
had come to know on the page, through the streets where
much-loved heroines and much-loathed villains resided. In a
way, it felt like coming home.
Incredible India
Susan Cohen-Nicole / Modern Languages
Incredible India. That is how books, travel agents, and guides
refer to the country my husband and I visited over winter
break, thanks in great part to the generous travel grant
awarded me by the Nightingale-Bamford School, and for
which I am very grateful.
I found what I saw of India incredible in the beauty of its
monuments and its arts. But all beauty is incredible. I also
found it incredible in the horror of its poverty and oppression.
Again, though, all poverty and oppression are horrible and
they exist everywhere. Perhaps part of what made it all so
striking and wrenching in every way was the quantity—sheer
numbers—of people, of animals, of refuse, everywhere, the
incredible intermingling of what we call modernity and what
gets called “medieval” conditions, a rather facile way of
saying poverty. One sees people walking with cell phones
next to women carrying heavy loads and jars of water on their
heads; cars on the same roads as carts drawn by camels, or
by people. As everywhere, everyone is trying to survive and
improve her or his lot. The sheer quantities and the difficulties
of the circumstances make reflection and analysis inescapable.
We saw magnificent things. In Delhi, the Qutub Minar, the
glorious twelfth-century tower created to symbolize the
power of the newly victorious Muslims, but carved by Hindu
stonecutters (the best available), who managed to sculpt
images of Hindu gods and goddesses and camouflage
them in this Muslim monument; the exquisite miniatures and
sculptures in the National Museum of Delhi, including the
“dancing girl” figurine, from 2,000–3,000 BC, Humayun’s tomb,
the Mughal predecessor of the Taj Mahal. It is impossible
to overstate the beauty and harmony of the Taj Mahal itself,
which surpasses anything any image or film could render.
After that, in Agra, we concentrated on Rajasthan, going from
superb, mostly Mughal forts and palaces in Jaipur, Jodhpur,
and Jaisalmer, to sacred Hindu temples and pilgrimage sites
in Pushkar and Osyian. We went into the Thar desert, to
the dunes on camels (help!) approximately 120 km from the
Pakistani border, and heard a local group play wildly beautiful
traditional music that was so infectious that it incited many of
the Indian tourists to dance spontaneously.
We were there when we learned of the horrific rape that
had just occurred in Delhi, the “rape capital of India,” as
it was noted in English language Indian newspapers. In
addition to feeling horror at that event and at the statistics
of rape in India (as at the incidence of rape right here in our
own country), I found it thrilling to see how that particular
rape galvanized Indian women and many Indian men. Their
outrage produced massive protests not only in Delhi, which
was paralyzed for an entire day, but throughout the country,
something that was less well reported in the international
media, I believe.
It was fascinating to remark that 95% of the tourists we saw
at all of the hotels and monuments were Indian, or of Indian
origin. Winter break is the time when many Indians living in
foreign lands return to visit their families, but they—as well as
the local people—also visit monuments as tourists and make
pilgrimages to religious sites.
Religion, of course, is the elephant in the room (the metaphor
is a bit cutesy given that this concerns India, but I’ve
succumbed to temptation here). Religion in its connections
to power and the oppression of women; in how it gets
manipulated and manipulates; in the rampant religious
hatred that is still so pervasive in India and, of course, in the
West as well. It is something that must not be ignored, since
something that remains such an incredibly powerful force in
the world must be faced and understood.
For now, though, I’ll leave that particular elephant and end
with the glorious image of the Palace of the Winds from
Jaipur, as I prefer finishing with a testament to beauty.
Thank you again, Nightingale, for enhancing my awareness
of the world through the travelship grant. The voyage has
changed me permanently and will affect my teaching, not
only of my Authors of the “Orient” class, but of everything.
ma rch 2013 27
Escape from NYC: Reflections
from Yosemite and Crater Lake
Nikki Vivion / Science, Head
addition to our ever-expanding list of future places to explore.
After eight hours traveling through rural northern California,
we finally arrived in Klamath County, Oregon. Although
we were initially upset that the Crater Lake Lodge had
no vacancies during our trip, any disappointment quickly
subsided when we pulled up to the Lonesome Duck
Settlement Bed & Breakfast on the Williamson River. The
property offered over 200 acres of serenity and natural beauty.
And the non-human animal residents of the home—an
energetic black lab and three fussy but adorable llamas—
kept us company while we weren’t out exploring Crater Lake
National Park.
Aleks Radovich and Nikki Vivion in Yosemite National Park
Travel is not only a passion of mine, but also a much needed
time to reflect and reset. It affords me the opportunity to
reconnect with the natural world—an essential means of
rejuvenation. While I love living in the hustle and bustle of
New York City, I am at heart a girl from Southern California
who spent much of her youth exploring the outdoors. I lacked
the perspective at the time, but I now appreciate just how
lucky I was to be able to so easily explore beaches, deserts,
mountains, oceans, and islands in my extended backyard.
In fact, it was during my eighth grade class trip to Yosemite
National Park that I first remember falling in love with a place.
I have since amassed many locations on my list of must-sees,
and Crater Lake, Oregon had been on the short list for quite
some time. So when it came time to select a destination for
my faculty travelship application, deciding on a road trip from
the Bay Area to Crater Lake and Yosemite seemed like an
obvious choice.
Cut to mid-July of 2012. Aleks [Radovich] and I arrived in
Oakland, hopped in our rented Jeep Liberty, and hit the
road. It didn’t take long to leave the urban life behind and
find ourselves surrounded by natural beauty. Surely the most
impressive site we passed on our journey north to Oregon
was Mount Shasta. Towering nearly 15,000 feet above sea
level and completely disconnected from other neighboring
mountains, this giant truly dominates the surrounding
landscape. We both agreed that this site was a worthy
28 Faculty Newslette r
Our first glimpse of Crater Lake took our breath away.
Some of this was due to the very cold temperatures we
encountered—not unseasonable for late July in that region,
but difficult to grasp until you experience it for yourself. In all
seriousness, Crater Lake is one of the most beautiful natural
wonders I have ever seen and genuinely is like no place
else on Earth. Formed over 7,700 years ago when Mount
Mazama erupted in a dazzling fashion but then collapsed into
a caldera, Crater Lake was then filled in over centuries with
rainwater and snow melt. What remains is a cold, freshwater
lake glimmering in color, with some of the deepest blues and
richest greens imaginable.
We spent much of our time hiking around the park and
touring the lake on a boat: in the middle of Crater Lake lies
Wizard Island, which is actually a volcanic cinder cone formed
sometime after Mazama’s eruption; it boasts trees more than
800 years old and populations of small mammals and visiting
birds. We sailed from there to one of the more memorable
sights—the mysterious Phantom Ship—an island that seems
to disappear and reappear depending upon your vantage
point from the rim. We were also lucky to also catch a glimpse
of the Old Man, a hemlock trunk that has been bobbing
vertically in the waters for over 100 years.
One of our final hikes in the park involved a short walk out to
the Pinnacles—seemingly never-ending rows of chimneys that
formed when hot ash from the climatic eruption cooled and
surrounding rock eroded away. Twisting and reaching up into
the sky, these fossil fumaroles [volcanic steam vents] left quite
an impression upon us as we drove away from the national
park and back to the B & B for our final night.
Crater Lake National Park
Although we were reluctant to leave Crater Lake behind, we
brimmed with excitement about what awaited us at our final
destination. I never imagined that it would take me so long
to return to Yosemite, but the experience was worth the wait.
The valley never fails to impress when one first lays eyes on
the roaring waterfalls, towering granite cliffs, and groves of
giant sequoias filling the landscape. The anticipation builds
as one drives through the Wawona Tunnel knowing that—just
at the other end—awaits one of the most awe-inspiring views
imaginable of the span of Yosemite Valley. Flanked by the
giant granite monolith known as El Capitan on one side and
the lovely Bridalveil Fall on the other, my beloved Half Dome
beckoned me in the distance. On my eighth-grade trip long
ago, I elected to go with my friends to the Hetch Hetchy
Reservoir instead of doing what I really wanted to do, which
was to climb Half Dome; I had always regretted that decision
and vowed to conquer the massive rock one day. Sadly, I now
found myself on a waiting list for a reservation to climb and
had to wait a few days to learn my fate.
After multiple stops for photo opportunities along the way,
we finally arrived at our cabin, a home in the only privately
owned residential development within the park boundaries.
It was perched on a hillside surrounded by scattered conifers
and rambunctious chipmunks. We settled in after dinner and
rested up for an early start the next morning to Vernal Fall.
On the way from the car to the trailhead, we encountered a
doe and her fawn crossing a meadow. They hardly flinched
at our presence as they cautiously made their way across the
road to a nearby field. Along the Mist Trail, we crisscrossed
the Merced River several times before beginning to climb the
steep and slippery steps to the top of Vernal Fall.
Aleks and I continued to take in all that Yosemite had to offer
during our last few days. Although we were disappointed
to learn that the Half Dome waiting list ran short, we were
instead able to head to Wawona Valley on our final day for
a hike through the famous grove of giant sequoias. Only
outdone in height by their coastal redwood cousins, these
massive trees made us feel insignificant standing in their
shadows and imagining the history they had witnessed during
their 2,000 years in the valley.
On our way back to Oakland for our flight home, we marveled
at the distances we had traveled and the sights we had seen.
There was no argument from either of us that we would return
again someday to both majestic worlds, in part so that I can
satisfy the allure of Half Dome still beckoning for my return.
ma rch 2013 29
Highlights from
Academic Affairs
Kitty Gordan / Associate Head of School
The Committee on Academic Affairs meets monthly to
handle the administrative routine of school and to address
educational issues that span disciplines and divisions. Some
are of an ongoing nature while others are specific to this year.
The committee’s agenda for 2012–2013 has been very full and
will continue to be so.
Divisional Priorities for 2012–2013
We started the year with a discussion of the goals of each
division. The Lower School faculty would focus on making
use of the wealth of internal resources that teaching at
Nightingale offers, starting with faculty visiting each other’s
classes and giving each other feedback. They also planned
to review reports and conferences with reference to their
alignment with the mission and values of the school. Our
visual education program continues to be a major component
in the Lower School, and the modern language program
(offering French, Mandarin, and Spanish) that began last year
is now a fixture in Classes III and IV. In the Middle School,
the focus would be to ensure that the academic program
meets the needs of every girl, and the self-study was seen
as an opportunity to dig deeply into what we teach and
how we teach it. The faculty started with a discussion of
what our Middle School girls should know when they leave
Class VIII, and plans to analyze the curriculum with a focus
on finding interdisciplinary connections. They will also look
at assessments. In the Upper School, the faculty looked to
recast Big Questions to be more inclusive and to build greater
student ownership and leadership. They would also focus
on how to best use iPads across grades and disciplines, and
on celebrating learning and achievement with the girls. The
Upper School faculty also planned to reach out to Interschool
regarding their Museum and Finance program as well as a
science initiative.
30 Faculty Newslette r
Guest Speakers
Academic Affairs meetings have been enriched by
presentations by many faculty invitees. Scott Meikle, Claire
Anderson, Diane Neary, Nikki Vivion, Marilina Kim, Nicole
Seibert, and Mary Beth Alexander reported on how they are
using iPads in their teaching so that we can learn from each
other about the classroom potential of the iPad.
Elizabeth Angney, Hilary Lucas, and Heidi Kasevich all gave
interesting reports about their experiences at the “Innovation
Summit” they attended at the Hathaway Brown conference
last October. Elizabeth spoke about Anu Partanen, a Finnish
journalist who discussed the Finnish “education miracle.”
Finnish schools have shorter school days, spend $3,000 less
per year on students than we do, assign less homework,
and place greater emphasis on play, yet in international
rankings, their students significantly outperform those in the
United States. Ms. Partanen credits the strong mathematics
and foreign languages performance of Finnish students to
teacher education, school independence, preschool focus,
and the incorporation of tutoring and support systems for all
students that have been instituted by the Finnish government.
Hilary reported on Paul Tough’s talk, which focused on
questions like “What is the secret to success?” and “What is
failure?” According to his research, IQ and cognitive abilities
do not play a defining role in life; rather, it is the “gritty
characteristics”— grit, self-control, zest, social intelligence,
gratitude, optimism, and curiosity—that make the difference.
Finally, Heidi reported on Thomas Friedman’s keynote
address, during which he said that there is no more American
dream, but also that our future is not “used up.” He also
advocated that we respond to the “merger of globalization in
the IT revolution.” What do we do as educators? His answer
is that we teach students how to think like a new immigrant,
as well as like artisans who carve initials on their work, a
starter-upper who is never finished, and a waitress who is
always taking control of her domain.
The iPad Initiative
Does teaching with iPads improve student learning?
What roles can and should iPads play in the teacher’s toolkit?
What impact does student use of iPads have on classroom
dynamics and the quality of our school community? These
are but a few of the questions we are exploring this year. In
order to be fully informed when it comes time to assess our
progress and make decisions about next year, the Committee
on Academic Affairs has been compiling information
about faculty progress and feedback. Individual faculty
members report at every Academic Affairs meeting, and the
department heads discuss their departmental experience. The
technology department also keeps us current: most recently,
they presented the results of their faculty survey on iPad use,
which gave a wealth of data, including information about
faculty use and professional development preferences.
Faculty feedback about the sort of training it would most
benefit from led the technology department to create
“iPad U,” which will be offered for multiple two-day sessions
this June, July, and August to accommodate individual
summer plans. Meanwhile, additional information is being
compiled by a cross-departmental and cross-divisional
task force headed by Noni Thomas, which will make
recommendations to Paul Burke for next year’s Academic
Affairs discussions.
Travel Policy
Foreign travel is an important complement to our curriculum
and its focus is on educating students who see themselves
as “citizens of the world.” In the words of our vision statement
for the Nightingale graduate of 2020, we would like her
“to be more aware of her place in the world, embracing
global diversity and aiming to work across barriers, whether
of ideology, language, culture, or faith.” We therefore offer
a wide array of opportunities for travel and exchanges. After
extensive discussions, however, we have agreed that some
limits should be set on the number of trips an Upper School
student can go on in order to protect family time as well as to
teach our students to prioritize. Other considerations leading
to this decision included concerns about overburdening
the faculty, equity, and the impact of our travel program on
our financial aid budget. We reaffirmed our commitment
to offering trips that grow out of curriculum and are putting
in place an annual application process to facilitate financial
planning and preparation for both students and faculty.
Henceforth, students who want to go on a school-sponsored
trip will apply to the “trip committee,” composed of the head
of the Upper School, the Upper School dean of students, and
additional faculty members.
Advanced Placement Offerings
Our last in-depth review of our AP offerings was in 2007.
Over the last five years, student enrollment has stayed steady
and our students have done very well. Nationwide, student
enrollment has grown dramatically and many colleges
no longer offer credit or set the bar much higher before
giving it. Meanwhile, the College Board has dropped the
French Literature AP as well as the Latin Lyric exam, and
modifications have taken and continue to take place with
the language, science, and US History APs. We continue
to offer the courses that suit our program; we no longer
offer AP European History to make space for electives, and
abandoned Spanish Literature because we prefer to teach
literature in greater depth than the AP syllabus allows.
Effective next year, we will also stop offering AP Art History.
Finding the proper balance between our own curricular goals
and national standards is important and will continue to
require thought in the years ahead.
ma rch 2013 31
2012–2013
Conference Registrations
Nightingale is committed to the professional development of its faculty; below is a list of conferences attended
(or to be attended) by members of the faculty in the 2012–2013 school year.
conference
date
attendees
National Association of
Independent Schools
Annual Conference
February 27–March 1, 2013
Paul Burke
Debra Malmgren
Catherine Steiner-Adair
Rebecca Urciuoli
New York State Association
of Independent Schools (NYSAIS)
Education and Information
Technology
January 30, 2013
Nicole Blandford
Diane Neary
Dan Ristea
Adam Van Auken
NYSAIS Teaching with Technology
February 20, 2013
Nora Lidell
Anne Longley
Lois Strell
NYSAIS Educating Girls
January 22, 2013
Abby Balafas
Paul Burke
Felicia Collins
Kitty Gordan
Heidi Kasevich
Anne Longley
Noni Thomas
Nancy Wheeler
NYSAIS Understanding
Sex, Gender, and Sexuality
December 13, 2012
Claire DuNouy
Linda Field
Naomi Hayashi
Laura Kirk
Rebecca Urciuoli
Gardner Carney Leadership
Institute Lab
June 14–20, 2013
Anne Longley
32 Faculty Newslette r
conference
date
attendees
National Association of Principals
of Schools for Girls Women’s
Leadership Seminar
October 5–7, 2012
Abby Balafas
Claire DuNouy
Digital Learning Summit
at Avenues
November 10, 2012
Claire Anderson
Kelly Qualman
Grace Wang
Learning and the Brain
November 29, 2012
Naomi Hayashi
Kelly Qualman
Fernanda Winthrop
Functional Movement Systems
Level 1—Centennial
September 15–16, 2012
Lisa Campbell
Hathaway Brown Education
Innovation Summit
October 4–5, 2012.
Elizabeth Angney
Heidi Kasevich
Hilary Lucas
The Center for Spiritual and
Ethical Education Community Service:
Empowering Kids in the 21st Century
February 15–16, 2013
Damaris Maclean
NYSAIS Professional Development
Liasons Workshop
October 4, 2012
Blanche Mansfield
International Society for Technology in
Education Annual Conference
June 23–26, 2013
Nicole Blandford
NYSAIS Race for the White House:
Integrating Election 2012 into your
School’s Curriculum
September 19, 2012
Amanda Goodwin
NYSAIS Building Emotionally
Literate Schools: A Year-Long Course
September 20, 2012,
October 25, 2012, January 17, 2013,
and March 14, 2013
Hilary Lucas
NYSAIS Designing Educational
Activities With Google Earth
October 26, 2012
Claire Anderson
Kelly Qualman
NYSAIS New Division Heads Series
October 30, 2012, January 16, 2013,
and April 25, 2013
Anne Longley
NYSAIS Grading and Reporting Student
Learning: Effective Policies and Practices
October 3, 2012
Beth Horboychuck
Fernanda Winthrop
ma rch 2013 33
References on Creativity
Scott Meikle / Art
Scott Meikle has written an article on creativity that will be
published in the 2013–2014 issue of Independent School
magazine. With thanks to him, below is a list of some
reference materials that may be of interest to our readers.
Felder, R.M., “Reaching the Second Tier: Learning and
Teaching Styles in College Science Education,” J. Coll. Sci.
Teaching, 23(5), 286–290, 1993.
Felder, R.M. and Silverman, L.K., “Learning Styles and
Teaching Styles in Engineering Education,”Engr. Education,
1988.
The Decline of Creativity in the United States: 5 Questions for
Educational Psychologist Kyung Hee Kim 2010 Encyclopedia
Britannica blog interview. http://www.britannica.com/
blogs/2010/10/the-decline-of-creativity-in-the-united-states5-questions-for-educational-psychologist-kyung-hee-kim/
Gregorc, A., Learning Styles Model, 1988 http://gregorc.com/
instrume.html
34 Faculty Newslette r
Mailick, Sidney and Stumpf, Stephen A., Learning Theory in
the Practice of Management Development: Evolution and
Applications. Quorum Books, 1998. http://www.questia.
com/read/101045240/learning-theory-in-the-practice-ofmanagement-development-evolution.
McCarthy, Bernice, The 4-MAT System: Teaching to Learning
Styles with Right/Left Mode Processing Techniques. http://
www.4mat.eu/4mat-who-developed-it.aspx
Smith, M.K., “David A. Kolb on Experiential Learning,” The
Encyclopedia of Informal Education, 2001. http://www.infed.
org/b-explrn.htm.
Torrance Tests of Creative Thinking (E. Paul Torrance, 1962).
http://www.indiana.edu/~bobweb/Handout/d3.ttct.htm
Wakefield, A., “Learning Styles and Learning Dispositions in
Public Schools: Some Implications of Preference,” Education,
Vol. 113, 1993. http://connection.ebscohost.com/c/
articles/9308195448/learning-styles-learning-dispositionspublic-schools-some-implications-preference
ma rch 2013 35
Nightingale
The Nightingale-Bamford School
20 East 92nd Street, New York, NY 10128
nightingale.org
36 Faculty Newslette r